


Dreams//Choice

by PresAlex



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Critical Role - Wildemount Campaign
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood and Injury, Dreams, Hey..its time to worry about fjord, Near Future, hurt with little comfort, i dont know how to write dialogue so i just....dont, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 05:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PresAlex/pseuds/PresAlex
Summary: This time Fjord wasn’t lucky enough to be the first one awake in the morning.--Fjord has another encounter with his patron after the party comes across some new loot.





	Dreams//Choice

**Author's Note:**

> I rolled a dice 2 see who would be on watch and who would be hanging out with Fjord at the end :^)

This time Fjord wasn’t lucky enough to be the first one awake in the morning.

It still wasn’t a frequent occurrence for him to dream about his patron- rather it wasn’t a daily thing but a weekly thing. He hadn’t had any dreams recently that had him waking up choking on saltwater or wiping dried blood from the corner of his mouth, but he had had dreams nonetheless. For the most part these dreams showed him the usual huge yellow eye floating in front of him, beckoning his attention. In each dream he still found himself floating just above the sea floor, water slipping down his windpipe smoothly like oxygen. The words -- CONSUME. PROVOKE. -- were still repeated at deafening decibels, booming loud enough to vibrate his bones. Since the last time he had procured a new sword, however, he hadn’t found himself needing to swallow more swords, and thus hadn’t awoken with trickling blood caked to his lips.

This time, however, The Mighty Nein had been able to find some loot which they had split amongst themselves. There was a fair amount of jewellery, as well as an empty leather-bound notebook, two staffs which were similar to Beau’s, and a handful of tastefully designed swords. The swords looked more like they were for decoration, but there was one which still appeared sturdy enough to be used in combat, and wasn’t too flashy, so Fjord felt comfortable using it. The grip was a smooth, dark blue with a ridged circular design repeated around it. The blade itself was made of a sort of dark grey metal which almost appeared black in certain light.

Once the party had split their findings amongst themselves, they decided to set up camp. It wasn’t always that the group found themselves in a relatively safe cave now that they had begun travelling again. Everyone set up their bed rolls around the small fire which they had lit. It had been a long day for all of them. Although there wasn’t much fighting done, they had been travelling for a long time before they’d found the cave to explore, so all of them were quite exhausted. Molly offered to take the first watch, followed by Nott, and finally Jester.

Everyone, minus Molly, got comfortable and ll slowly fell asleep. Yasha, with her back to the wall of the cave, slept quietly, hands gripping her great sword even in sleep. Nott and Caleb slept back-to-back with Frumpkin curled up between their heads. Beauregard and Jester lay down on either side of Yasha.

Fjord almost expected his meeting with his patron- it was hard for them to surprise him now that they’d been happening for long enough. As such, when he fell asleep in a chilly cave and woke up at the bottom of the ocean, he didn’t try to immediately gasp for breath like he would have months ago. He stretched out his arms, palms open wide and pushed himself around so that he was facing the source of the dull yellow glow surrounding him. The water didn’t feel the way it usually did. As it slipped through his fingers, Fjord noted, it felt as though his hands were pushing against thick molasses. The water remained clear despite its startling viscosity. Slimy seaweed gently wrapped itself around his ankles as though it wasn’t deliberately trying to hold him down, phantom fish slid past his arms, thick water filled his mouth allowing him to breath.

The yellow eye of his patron stared own at him, unblinkingly. The ear-splitting voice of said patron rattled around inside his skull.

**CONSUME**

Fjord’s hand, which was previously empty, suddenly held an object. The sword in his hand didn’t so much appear as it had just always been there simultaneously as his hand had been empty. The slow drag of dense water made the action of lifting the sword up to meet his gaze a considerable effort.

**PROVOKE**

Distantly he realized how strange it was to be accustomed to such a thing. He rubbed his throat with one calloused hand. At least this sword was less jagged, he supposed before bring the sharp point up to his closed lips.

**CONSUME**

As he opened his mouth, a collection of honey tinged bubbles drifted up to some unseen surface, his own yellow eyes never leaving that of his patron. Despite the lack of overall temperature in the water, The sword in his grasp stung cold against his teeth. The chipped stumps in Fjord’s mouth, which were still too faint to be considered tusks, ached very suddenly and he found himself flinching. Slowly, preparing himself for the pain, Fjord brought the blade deeper into his mouth. The edge dug viciously into his gums, but once the point sharply bit into the back of his throat, Fjord found that he was ravenous. It was as though he had not eaten in days and this sword was the best thing he had tasted. The hunger forced the sword further. Fjord choked around the edge, eyes widening at the pain but finding that he didn’t want to stop the act. The stream of small bubbles that came out of him when he breathed were quickly replaced with a cloud of thick red liquid which floated upwards to the surface above.

The edges of Fjord’s vision clouded black while he pressed the blade further into his throat. Above him, the yellow eye of his patron somehow seemed pleased. As the sword slowly disappeared, Fjord’s vision was filled with darkness…

...Only to find his vision flooded with light a second later. As he adjusted to being awake, he noticed that the rest of the party was already up and packing their things into the cart. Quickly, however, Nott and Jester realized he was awake and alerted the rest of the group. Slowly he sat up from his mat, rubbing at his eyes. He has the strangest taste in his mouth.

“Fjord! You are awake! We did not think you would get up before we left” Jester began excitedly.

“We definitely wouldn’t have left you behind so you don’t have to worry about that” Nott added.

“Did you have another of your _wet dreams_?” Jester asked with a wiggle of her shoulders. Molly snickered behind her and waggled his eyebrows. Caleb, Yasha, and Beau glanced over at him, but continued to load things into the cart.

As Fjord began to open his mouth to answer, he immediately registered that something was wrong. His eyes widened and one green hand flew up to his mouth as he began to cough violently. Crimson flowed from between his fingers, thick in a way that reminded him too much of the water from his dream. His other hand flew to clutch at his neck where a shooting pain seemed to be emanating. His eyes watered with the roughness of his coughs and gasps while blood -- too much, too much blood -- poured out of his mouth.

His ears seemed to fill themselves with cotton as he heard Jester, Molly, and Nott frantically speaking to him as though from miles away. He felt Nott try to take his hand from his throat, a glass bottle filled with a healing potion held tightly in her other clawed hand. Mollymauk was talking but Fjord couldn’t make out what he was saying past the rushing of waves that resounding inside his head. Jester’s purple eyes met his through the grey fog that was beginning to dull his vision. One of her hands was clutched tightly around her religious symbol, the other shaking one of his shoulders in a panic. Her mouth was moving in what he assumed must be prayer. A single thought that compared the fat tears rolling down Jester’s cheeks to the honeyed bubbles from his dream drifted into his head hazily as his vision dulled further and his body went lax, falling back down onto his bloodied bedroll.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope u enjoyed!!!  
> This is only my second Critical Role fic so i hope its okay? I was very hesitant to write about Fjord because I didn't really know if I would be able to write him very well but??? ??? heres this anyways  
> hmu over on my main blog (@crykea) or my Critical Role sideblog (@calebwidodadst)


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